Playing the Villainess, He Fell for Me

Two bodyguards were dutifully standing guard at the door when they suddenly heard the THUD of something heavy hitting the floor inside. They exchanged a look and quickly threw the door open. "Miss Kennedy, are you—"

alright...?

Seeing the scene inside, the men’s worried words caught in their throats.

".................."

Under the dim yellow light, in the open space before the desk, the man was still tied to the chair, which had been kicked clean over, sending him crashing to the floor.

His face, red and swollen—whether from being hit or from the impact with the floor, it was hard to tell—had a visible trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

The girl had put her all into it. After kicking the chair, she staggered back from the force of the recoil, barely managing to steady herself. Her beautiful face was flushed with fury.

That was a living, breathing man, over six feet tall, and she’d just knocked him over like that?

The bodyguards looked at the girl’s delicate, fair face and her slender, seemingly fragile frame. Then they looked at the president of the Jennings Group on the floor, his face beaten to a pulp.

After a long moment, they swallowed hard.

’Impressive,’ they thought. ’We really underestimated women.’

"Beat him for me. Just don’t kill him. When you’re done, dump him at the entrance of a hospital," Joanna Kennedy said coldly.

The bodyguards instinctively glanced at the man on the floor, only to see him start laughing, the movement pulling at his swollen cheeks and curling his lips into a distinct smirk.

’Is getting beaten something to be happy about? Are all rich people this unhinged?’ They just didn’t get it.

Seeing Charles Jennings laugh, Joanna Kennedy’s anger flared up again. She wanted nothing more than to go over and give him another couple of kicks, but her right foot was numb from the impact, almost giving out from under her, and both of her palms were red from slapping him.

It was a classic case of inflicting a thousand wounds on the enemy at the cost of eight hundred to herself. And for what? She hadn’t gotten a single useful piece of information out of him. Joanna was thoroughly frustrated.

Charles Jennings was tight-lipped. Despite her threats and enticements, he hadn’t said a single useful word. Instead, he’d started spouting vulgarities at her!

Joanna was furious. She couldn’t stand the thought of not making Charles Jennings suffer some physical pain. She had already kidnapped him; she might as well see the evil deed through to the end.

The bodyguards nodded, cracked their knuckles, and walked toward the man on the floor.

The men were strong. Just watching one of them land a punch made Joanna wince in vicarious pain. She looked away.

Before leaving, she repeated, "Don’t kill him."

"Of course, Miss Kennedy. We know what we’re doing."

They had all come from bodyguard training camps. They knew where to hit for a fatal blow, and they knew where to hit to cause maximum pain without endangering a life.

A fist slammed into his abdomen. Charles Jennings doubled over in pain, but his eyes remained fixed on the girl’s retreating back. As he watched her walk away,

he seemed to find a sudden burst of strength. He tore at the ropes, his throat dry as he rasped, "Joanna Kennedy."

The bodyguards froze for a second before reacting, forcing him back down and landing another vicious punch. "Stay put."

"Joanna Kennedy!" the man’s voice was hoarse as he roared with all his might.

Joanna Kennedy frowned but didn’t break her stride. She walked out and pulled the door shut behind her.

Through the door, she could faintly hear the man’s ragged voice: "He’ll never get better. Never."

The moment the words left his mouth, they were followed by the sounds of a more intense flurry of punches and kicks.

Joanna stood there for a long time before slowly walking away.

She had driven here. Her car was parked around the corner. She opened the door, sat in the driver’s seat, and pulled out an antiseptic wipe, carefully cleaning her palms.

She didn’t stop wiping until the disgusting sensation was gone.

There was no moon tonight. The night was dark, pierced only by the dim yellow glow of the streetlights filtering into the car. Joanna suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion.

She leaned back against the seat, Charles Jennings’ words echoing uncontrollably in her mind again and again.

Joanna knew she shouldn’t believe him, but the word "never" felt so absolute, so vast that just thinking about it made her feel powerless.

She... missed Simon Lockwood. The old Simon Lockwood. *Her*... Simon Lockwood.

*

The villa was empty. 166 was asleep. Joanna Kennedy sat on the bay window in her bedroom.

It was eleven o’clock at night, and she was still awake. By her calculations, Simon Lockwood should have arrived in Dresland by now.

With the six-hour time difference, it should be afternoon there. Joanna opened her phone. No new messages. Her chat history with Simon Lockwood was still stuck on two days ago.

She stared at the chat window for a while before finally sending a video call request. The ringtone sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet bedroom.

It rang until it automatically disconnected. He never picked up.

「Berlyn, Dresland.」

In a stark white room, a cold medical machine sat in the center. It was built like a CT scanner, but with many more silver mechanical cables.

A man lay on it, his expression cool and emotionless. The cables were connected to each of his organs, especially his brain. As a transparent glass cover lowered, the man slowly closed his eyes.

Data from all his bodily organs was displayed on a large screen nearby.

As time passed, green data points flickered on the large screen, densely covering it from top to bottom.

*

The next morning, when Joanna Kennedy woke up, the housekeeper had already arrived and made breakfast.

"You’re awake, Miss Kennedy. Come and eat. I bought fresh shrimp this morning and made some shrimp dumplings."

The faint aroma of soy milk and the sweet, fresh scent of shrimp instantly tempted her palate. Joanna ate one and gave a thumbs-up, not holding back her praise. "Ma’am, this is absolutely delicious."

She finished a full glass of soy milk and ate a few more shrimp dumplings before she felt full.

Just then, 166 came over, its little tail swishing, and meowed a few times.

Joanna went to pour it some cat food with practiced ease.

[So? Did you find anything out?] 166 asked, thinking it should show some concern for its host now that it was enjoying some tasty cat food.

[No.] Joanna stroked its fur idly as she replied casually, [I exposed his identity and beat him up.]

166: [..........]

It bristled. [You dared to hit him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll retaliate?! He has a high-level system!]

was so anxious it stopped eating its food and just ran around her in circles.

Joanna, however, was unfazed.

’A high-level system? If it has the guts, it can come right at me. I’d love to drag that system out and give it a thrashing too.’

She opened her phone’s chat app again. Still no new messages.

’Flying is tiring. Simon Lockwood is probably still resting,’ she tried to reassure herself, but her heart couldn’t help but sink.

Joanna took a deep breath, suppressing her frustration. Just as she was about to find something to pass the time,

her phone suddenly chimed with a notification. Her eyes lit up as she immediately swiped the screen open, but the light in her eyes slowly faded.

It was a message from Anna Yates, followed by another, and another, bombarding her phone. The last one said she was already on her way to pick her up.

Joanna Kennedy: "???"

Joanna Kennedy: "!!!"

She immediately called her, afraid she’d be too late, but after just two rings, the call was abruptly disconnected from the other end.

Joanna Kennedy: "........."

She felt a headache coming on. How was she going to explain this to Anna Yates?

Ten minutes later, Joanna Kennedy was in Anna Yates’s car.